Promise
by willy-the-elder
Summary: Hiro never found calling for help easy. He's much more content when the help just comes to him. But, when struck down by a mysterious illness, he doesn't have an option. (One-Shot, Post Movie)


_**Promise** _

_Originally posted on Tumblr, I wrote this (rather long) One-Shot on the go using my kindle. Posted on FanFiction for .92 and everyone else who supports me so kindly. Thank you all! Enjoy._

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 _ **Summary:**_

 _Hiro never found calling for help easy. He's much more content when the help just comes to him. But, when struck down by a mysterious illness, he doesn't have an option._

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The lab was silent. The white clinical walls were eerie, void of the usual clamour of technology and invention. The blinds on the single circular window were closed, blocking out what would have been brilliant sunlight and shielding the room's single occupant from the outside world. Nothing moved. Not the clutter on the functional desk. Not the blank computer monitor. Not the silent robotics project in the corner.

There was but one thing alive within the darkened room, curled up tightly on the orthopaedic black chair. The young boy drew his knees tighter up to his chest, his sky blue hoodie held tightly against him, the hood pulled up over his mop of thick, fluffy black hair. Beneath it, his face was pale, brow tightened in pain as a dull ache throbbed against his skull like the stamping of an angry toddler.

Hiro dared not open his eyes. The swooping and dancing of the flashing colours that plagued his vision threatened to make him feel sick if he did. The boy wished he could get up and go, seek out his friends for help, but he didn't want to risk leaving the safe darkness of his private lab for the fear that he might pass out on the floor.

Never before had the teen experienced anything akin to this. Every movement of his head sent sharp pangs shooting through his brain, and he couldn't see anything through the hazy veil draped over his vision. He thought many times about calling out for help, but attracting attention would mean the entirety of his group of friends would come running to his aid, and he certainly didn't want all of them rushing in to dote on him when he felt like this. One person was bad enough.

Somewhere along the line, his left hand had gone numb, and nothing he tried could reawaken the extremity. He clenched his fist desperately, a note of panic worming its way into his rapid, shallow breathing. He tried shaking the fingers out, rubbing his knuckles up and down his arm and pinching the skin, but nothing worked. His hand was stubbornly asleep.

"Wh-What is this?" He muttered to himself, eyes now wide open and searching for answers in his palms as he tried to calm himself with the sound of his own voice. He cursed himself for leaving Baymax at home that day. The side of the teen's face was also beginning to tingle uncomfortably, and when he chewed his tongue nervously, he could barely feel his teeth pull away chunk after chunk of flesh.

Hiro suddenly realised that he'd had his eyes open too long. A sick feeling was building in his stomach, pressing into his throat, tremors running through his gut. He shivered miserably, willing himself not to be sick. _Don't throw up, just don't throw up..._

No matter how much he begged himself to contain his urge to spew, the prepubescent's body didn't seem to be taking any notice. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt, and the worse he felt, the more he thought about it. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips, but he couldn't hold it back any longer. Whatever this sickness was, it wanted out, and Hiro was powerless to stop it. He shot upright out of his chair, steadying himself on the desk, then, making sure his hood was covering most of his face, he blinked his eyes into focus and snatched the door handle.

Fred had just made the most delicious disaster of a lunch (combining pretty much everything in his bag, including last night's left over chilli, some crisps, garlic dip and a good dollop of marshmallow spread, stuffed in a wrap) and was busy singing the praises of his culinary excellence while waving it, freshly microwaved, at Go Go as she was trying to work. The smell, while to him was intoxicating, was truly repulsive to his friend, and it took her at least three threats of destroying the abomination to finally get him to leave her alone and go and eat it. Curled up in his armchair, he joyfully snapped up what he had created from the candy-coloured surface of his plastic plate, earning himself several odd looks from the students around him as he spread a good amount of it over his fingers and face.

The school mascot was just beginning to clean himself up with a paper serviette (which had his name printed on it in big, curly script) when he caught sight of the lab door across the central testing area opening. He watched as his small, dark-haired friend came flying out of his room in a tearing rush, hood up, dashing across the open area and through another set of double doors. The English major barely caught a glimpse of Hiro's face, but what he saw was pale and alarming. His eyes trailed the boy until he was out of sight, until the doors swung shut behind him.

Worry bloomed in his breast. It wasn't like Hiro to leave his lab in the middle of a session, not even to go to the toilet. He worked hard and fast, didn't stop for breaks. And his face! So pale, so gaunt, so sickly. Fred bit his lip, leaving his plate behind as he sought out his mechanic friends again.

"Did you see that?" He asked, leaning against Go Go's desk. For a second, she didn't reply, fixated as she was with the adjustments she was making to her project bike, hanging from its rack on the ceiling. He sat and stared at her, bouncing on his toes as he awaited her reply.

"See what?" She eventually muttered, without looking around.

"Hiro. He just went running out of his lab."

"Uhuh," the young woman raised an eyebrow, unconcerned. "Kid's gotta take a leak."

"He looked sick, though. Like, really sick."

Go Go stopped what she was doing, finally turning to observe him as though trying to tell whether this was some sort of joke. Her brows knitted at the concern on his face. "Well, you've got nothing better to do. Why don't you go check on him?"

Fred's face lit up as though this was the idea of the century, and Go Go had to suppress a smirk as she turned back to what she was doing. She had no doubt that, if Hiro was feeling unwell, Fred would more-than-happily take care of him. The young woman listened as his footsteps faded away across the lab floor, settling back down to her adjustments.

The mascot knew exactly where Hiro was going. He scuttled down the long corridors, his soft trainers squeaking on the linoleum flooring in his hurry. The English major wasn't someone who often fell ill, when he did, he almost always knew it was coming and stayed at home. He couldn't imagine the embarrassment or unpleasantness of being sick at college. But, on the bright side, at least Hiro had his good friend's help to get through this.

The mascot faltered outside the toilet doors. Maybe the prepubescent wouldn't want his help. Maybe he'd rather be alone. Fred nibbled his lip, falling back against the plain wall and staring at the ceiling. _No, come on, Fred. Hiro needs your help. He's sick and he needs caring for._ With the mental encouragement echoing in his mind, he took a breath and pushed open the door.

After taking a brief second to examine the stall doors and noting that only one was locked, he took a tentative step towards the closed cubical and cleared his throat. "Hiro? You in there, little buddy?"

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with a void, empty nothingness that made the mascot's skin crawl. He knew the boy was in there: he had to be, and yet, he received no reply. Could he have passed out? Might he be paralysed? A million thoughts rushed through his head as he inched closer to the closed door.

"Hiro?"

Finally, he heard the uncomfortable shuffling of clothing, then a hoarse, broken whisper. "Fred?"

"Yeah, it's me. Hiro, what's going on? Are you okay?" The older boy didn't waste time. There could be any number of things wrong with the young boy genius; time was (probably) of the essence.

"No, I'm not okay," came the feeble reply. From the sound of his throaty rasp, the teen had already been sick. They was an unsteady scuffle of trainers gaining a grip in the cold tiled floor, followed by the loose rattle of shaking fingers fumbling with the cubical latch, and then finally, the door swung inwards with a screech of dry hinges that forced an agonized grimace across the pale, clammy face of the young boy behind it.

Finally, there he was, slumped against the wall, his skin an ashen grey and his hair glued to the beads of sweat that peppered his creased brow. The teen's expression was one of utter misery, a cloudy film of pain misting his usually bright mahogany eyes. When Fred tried to speak, the prepubescent winced in such a pitiful way that the older boy was left almost whispering to avoid causing more unneeded misery.

"What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"I don't know," the teen whined, sounding so utterly lost that Fred bit his lip. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"Why don't we go back to your lab? I'll call your aunt and get her to pick you up..."

He trailed off at the sight of the young genius shaking his head. "Aunt Cass can't leave the cafe, she's working."

"Well, maybe Wasabi will give you a lift? His class ends soon." Fred shrugged, then reached out and clasped his companion's shoulder. "Whatever we do, we need to get you home."

Hiro pushed himself up off the wall, running a hand unsteadily through his mop of black hair as he followed the mascot out of the door. As they made their way back towards the labs, he made an effort to wipe away as much of the moisture on his face as possible. His sick feeling was beginning to surface again, and he found himself worrying that leaving the bathrooms was a bad idea. His slow shuffle was catching his friend's attention, and Fred stopped a little way up the corridor to wait for his little friend.

"What's up, little dude? You're not gonna be sick, are you?"

"I don't know," Hiro shrugged. "I think I just need to sit down."

Fred smiled encouragingly. "Your lab isn't far, you can make it."

With a nod and a weak smirk, the boy continued on behind his friend, he shoes scuffling loudly on the floor. Beyond the testing area doors, the noise level was breathtakingly painful, the crash of things being knocked over, the din of thrusters being tested, the clank and clang of tools on metal made Hiro's head throb, and he closed his eyes to the bright lights so that, if the mascot hadn't grabbed him and pulled him away, he would have walked right into a partition wall. With an arm around his shoulders, Fred quickly steered his friend into the quieter darkness of his own lab, closing the door swiftly behind him.

"Headache, huh?" He guessed, trying to put two and two together. Hiro didn't reply, but in the safety and privacy of the darkened room, he instead, without warning, wrapped his arms around his friend's waist and buried his head in the warm folds of his shirt. Fred was taken aback, but was more than happy to oblige the impromptu hug, patting his companion's back gently.

"You wanna tell me what's been going on?" The mascot enquired after a second. Hiro nodded, releasing his grip on the older boy and pulling up his black chair. As an afterthought, he kicked his stool towards his friend, the one that someone had bought him as a joke but that actually proved very useful for reaching high shelves and wiring.

"I guess it started with that little light spot in my vision that basically grew until I couldn't see," the boy recounted thoughtfully, stroking his chin as he curled up in his chair.

"Trippy," the older boy interjected helpfully as he perched on the plastic stool.

"Then the headache started up, and I was gonna go talk to someone, but I couldn't see to walk anywhere, so I just sat here and hoped it would go away." At this point, the boy stopped, biting his lip as he observed the slightly horrified expression on his friend's face. "I know, I know, it was stupid of me."

"Kinda stupid," Fred snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, anyway, then my hand went all numb, then my face did too, and that's when I started feeling sick."

"That's some serious problem you've got there, little dude. I've never heard of something like that." The older boy winced at the frightened look that crossed his friend's face. He didn't have time to act, however, as both occupants of the room sat up at the sound of a knock on the frosted glass door.

The handle turned, and it swung open soundlessly, giving way to a short figure who was quick to close it again as she entered. Go Go cast a glance across the two teens, chewing her bubble gum slowly, then she strode past Fred and boosted herself onto a clear part of the desk, her eyes fixed on the younger boy.

"Been listening in. Hope you don't mind," she leaned forward and swung her legs as Hiro stared up hopefully at her. "Sounds to me like a migraine or something."

"A migraine?" Hiro sat back, his brow furrowed in thought. "I thought that was just a bad headache?"

"Most of the time, but there's often something that goes with it." Go Go observed the younger boy. "I always used to get the flashing lights in my eyes. Actually, so did Tadashi."

Fred made a noise of realisation as Hiro's brows shot up. "I remember him getting them!" The mascot nodded, a fond smile flitting across his lips.

Hiro rubbed his forehead. Come to think of it, he remembered days when he would have to plug his headphones into his computer and close all the blinds to let his older brother sleep off headaches behind the closed paper partition in their shared room. He recalled the way Tadashi would try to brush it off, even as he swallowed the sickly white painkillers. The older college student had told him about them, described the blinding lights and the stabbing pains. The teen couldn't see how he hadn't made the connection sooner.

Go Go glanced at her watch, then slid off the table with a bounce. "Wasabi's lesson ends pretty soon. I'll head over and see if I can catch him for you," she declared calmly, reaching out to tap a light fist against her youngest friend's shoulder. The boy braved a smile.

"Thanks," he muttered mutedly, watching as she crossed the dark room and once again disappeared through the glass door. He could feel Fred's eyes on him as he drew his knees up again, burying his aching head into the comforting grip of his arms and khakis.

"Not feeling too good still, huh?" The mascot drew his stool closer, leaning towards his small friend with a concerned look on his face. Hiro drew a shaky breath. His skull felt as though it was being cleaved open with a blunt saw, and he just felt so tired. All he wanted to do was fall asleep, and yet the throbbing in his head wouldn't let him drift off. _It was too bright. Too bright..._

"I don't feel good at all..." He groaned, shuddering as Fred's arm wove its way around his shoulders.

"Don't worry. I'll look after you when we get you home. It won't be long, I promise."

Wasabi was more than happy to drive both Fred and Hiro back to the Lucky Cat. In fact, he even got a fresh bagel out of it from Aunt Cass, who felt indebted after he thought to phone her before they left and warn her of her nephew's condition. She was able to round up an assortment of pain medication and a cool, damp cloth, as well as black out Hiro's bedroom before he arrived.

Thoroughly dosed up, an ever-so-slightly woozy boy genius was guided carefully up the stairs by his mascot friend, tucked into his bed and settled down with care and dedication. Fred stayed by his bedside as the teen finally slipped into an uneasy sleep, watching attentively like a guardian angel.

His eyes flickered upwards, looking towards the old, worn, wooden partition blocking off a corner of the room. Behind that, he knew, was where Hiro's late brother used to live. Used to sleep. Used to lie awake and listen to his sibling's breathing. It was the partition that he would throw open in the middle of the night to wake the little boy from his screaming night terrors. The partition that never really came between them.

At that man's graveside, many months ago, Fred had made a silent promise. A promise to watch over Hiro like his brother no longer could.

There was no way he was going to shirk that responsibility. Fred would never break that promise.

"Don't worry, Tadashi. I got this."


End file.
